A Mighty Fine Predicament
by Theoretician
Summary: He splits his time between the desperate and the dead. It was only a matter of time before he joined one…or the other.


**Title: **A Mighty Fine Predicament

**Author: **Mademoiselle Juko Pax-Prime

**Rating: **PG+

**Summary: **He splits his time between the desperate and the dead. It was only a matter of time before he joined one…or the other.

**Content/Warnings: **Character death.

**Feedback: **Makes me happy and possibly better.

**Spoilers: **For the movie.

**Disclaimer: **I do not and never will own Repo! The Genetic Opera. This was made purely for fun.

**A/N: This plot bunny just won't leave me alone. I watched Repo! for the first time yesterday. Smashing. Gory, but absolutely smashing.**

There was little light in the alleyway—and none of it was natural. The moon was hidden behind dark grey clouds of pollution and GeneCo's floating billboards. Headlines flashed across them, telling the public of Amber Sweet's newest appearance and of GeneCo's search for fresh talent. The only things illuminating the area were the hastily built fires in metal trash cans. Four or five women huddled around each one, smoking and looking listless.

Graverobber carefully counted the coins and slipped them into his pocket. He coughed harshly, then started to put away the Zydrate gun. But he stopped. There was still a dose left.

"Who missed their fix?" he asked, raising his voice slightly. "I've still got a dose." The women looked at him, but no one spoke up. They were the ones who had not had payment enough for the dealer's wares. Graverobber narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Fine," he muttered. "Suit yourselves." He tucked the gun into its pouch, and left the alleyway.

He stuck to the shadows, moving quickly and cautiously. He was good at creeping and sneaking; he had been doing it for years. He chuckled inwardly as he pressed himself against the wall in another alley, waiting for the GeneCo clean-up truck to go by. He saw into the back as it passed: empty. Graverobber sighed. He had been hoping to get a fresh supply of Z before dawn, but it looked like that plan was shot.

He rested for a moment with his back against the wall. He put his hand to his chest with a slight grimace, and closed his eyes. He had become accustomed to taking shallow breaths—he wasn't so overwhelmed by the smell of rotting flesh that way—but even that was difficult. And his frequent bouts of coughing…he didn't worry about it too much, though.

"Graverobber," said a low, sultry voice nearby. Graverobber opened his eyes, and looked to his right. A shapely silhouette approached him, hips swaying sensually. Graverobber smirked.

"Miss Sweet," he said with a mock bow. "I wasn't expecting to see you again. Doesn't the head of GeneCo have access to _real_ Zydrate?" Amber pouted at him: a different pout than he remembered.

"Daddy made it clear in his will that Luigi was to be in charge of the Zydrate stocks. He doesn't let me near it," she said. "I already tried." She held up her arm, and a long, shiny scar was barely visible in the low light.

"Huh," Graverobber murmured. Amber looked him up and down, and he could tell she was searching for the Zydrate gun. She stopped in front of him. "You just changed your face, Miss Sweet. What do you want this time?"

"I like surgery with _your_ Zydrate, Graverobber," she purred. Graverobber grabbed her by the shoulders and switched places with her; slamming her against the brick wall. He ran his hand down her side, and she bit her lip. Graverobber smiled at her knowingly, and reached into her pocket.

"You're lucky, then," he said, pulling out a shiny silver coin. "I have one dose left." He put away the coin, and took out the Z-gun. He crouched down before Amber.

"It's quick," she whispered, "it's clean, and it's pure." She turned her knee outwards, exposing her inner thigh to Graverobber. He pressed the needle against her skin.

But suddenly, he stiffened. His breath caught in his throat, and he began to cough. For a moment, he decided to wait it out. But he couldn't stop. He kept on coughing, so hard that it brought him to his hands and knees.

"Graverobber?" said Amber. He could not reply. The coughing was tearing up his throat, and soon, drops of blood spattered the ground. "Graverobber!" Amber's voice was shrill, and she knelt beside him. "What's wrong with you?" She turned him over so that she could see his face, propping him up on her leg.

"So—that's what's b-been going on," he gasped. "Sh-should've known that e-even I'm not in-nvincible."

"What are you talking about?" Amber asked, half angry, half terrified.

"C-collapsed l-l-lung." Graverobber closed his eyes and ground his teeth together.

"I can fix that," said Amber. "I'll call a surGEN. He'll replace your lung. Really, you'll be fine." In spite of his pain, Graverobber laughed.

"And j-join the masses of indebted suckers who th-thought GeneCo would m-make their life better? I d-don't think so."

"I'm not going to let you die, Graverobber," Amber snapped. She started to call one of the Genterns, but Graverobber stopped her.

"It's n-not me you care about, y-you se-selfish bitch," he said. "It's y-your _Zydrate_ fix. W-Without me…"

"That's ridiculous," Amber said, but she was a bad liar. Graverobber tightened his grip on the Zydrate gun.

"F-Fine," he said. "If it is m-me you care about, then y-you can j-join me in Hell!"

Amber barely had time to react before Graverobber plunged the needle deep into her jugular vein.

He let go of the gun, leaving it imbedded in Amber's neck. The drug was acting quickly; Amber's limbs went limp and her jaw slackened. She slumped against the wall. Black market Zydrate—even a single dose—was dangerous if it was injected incorrectly. Fatal, in fact. And Graverobber had indeed injected it incorrectly.

"N-Now you don't have to l-live without me," he hissed.

Then the alley was silent.


End file.
